Home Is Behind
by SoupSpecial
Summary: Pippin always wondered why Gandalf was so frustrated with everything he and Merry did. He also wonders why Gandalf chose to separate them, instead of keep them together. Spoilers for The Hobbit. Feels warning.


_**Major The Hobbit spoiler alert! Don't read if you don't want to find out about all the Feels. D;**_

_Somewhat inspired by tumblr. But in any case, isn't everything these days? Hope you like it. I just sort of cooked up this little drabble on a whim. I'll get back to my other fic soon! :D_

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"Did I ever tell you or Meriadoc about the Quest for Erebor?"

Pippin thought for a long moment, he had heard the name before. Merry would often describe wild and exaggerated stories when they were young. Pippin would mostly hear them as the two hobbit children were off on adventures of their own, stealing farmers' crops or evading worrisome mothers. Many of the elaborate descriptions involved trolls and dwarves and a lost handkerchief.

"Bilbo's old tales!" Pippin blurted out as he realised who the subject of the story was, "I thought those were all children's tales and ghost stories." He looked to Gandalf, who was blowing smoke out over the stone balcony. The hobbit joined him and peered over the edge, having to stand on his toes in order to reach.

Gandalf sucked on the end of his pipe and blew the smoke out carefully, seeming to search for words. The wizard was always silent when he got ready for a riddle or lesson. His lips moved wordlessly over the end of his pipe, as if he was practising or testing words before he said them. The silence always managed to add to the frustrating mystique behind him.

"There were thirteen dwarves, including Thorin Oakenshield," he began, mumbling behind his pipe, "Balin, Dwalin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Ori, Nori, Dori, Oin and Gloin." Pippin shifted on his feet and gripped the stone, looking at Gandalf without talking. Pippin knew enough to be quiet when the wizard spoke.

"There were two others, Fili and Kili. Nephews to Thorin, and also brothers, inseparable in all respects. They were the youngest of the company, and by all means the most spirited." Gandalf chuckled and looked off into the mountains, caught in a memory that had been long forgotten, "Thorin was never impressed with the two, but their mother, Dis, would never allow them to come to harm. They would get into such trouble, wandering off and stealing provisions or pastries, or going on dastardly adventures as dwarflings. I couldn't imagine the brothers ever being apart." Pippin blinked again, getting slightly bored and impatient with Gandalf's story.

"Were they brave?" Gandalf looked at him, somewhat suprised with the question, "On the Quest? Were they brave warriors?" Pippin asked, eyes wide like a small child.

"Yes, yes," Gandalf sighed and blew out more smoke, coughing slightly, "they were the descendents of Durin, trained to fight by Thorin himself. They would always fight together, as a team." At this Gandalf's face fell, and he looked much older than his usual jolly mood indicated. Pippin fidgeted uncomfortably once more, and stared at his fingers.

"What happened to them?" he asked quietly, but was unsure as to whether he wanted to hear the answer or not.

Gandalf swallowed slowly, almost gathering courage before he spoke.

"They died." he looked down a the hobbit, face grim and eyes woeful, "in the Battle of Five Armies, defending each other and their king."

Pippin drew in a breath, the moral of Gandalf's story all but punching him in the gut. Gandalf didn't seem to notice his companion's strife, and continued sadly, "though I never saw them before their deaths, I could never even imagine one surviving while the other perished. These two brothers were willing to die for each other, rather than feel the guilt of letting the other die without intervention."

Gandalf fell silent, and both wizard and hobbit stood quietly for a long time. Pippin frowned and ran his hands through his hair, at a loss for words. A raven called in the distance, it's song wavering on the brink of loneliness and despair. After two more calls it was silent once more.

_That's why._

The raven called out in the darkness, but there was nothing to heed it's woeful cry.

Gandalf sighed heavily again and gathered himself while turning to Pippin, "Well, Peregrin Took! It is late, and the King's Guard need their rest. They must have many duties to attend to during the day."

Pippin only nodded silently as Gandalf saw himself out. He waited on the balcony for the door to click shut, punctuating Gandalf's absence. He took one last longing glance to the north before climbing into his large bead and pulling the covers over his head. once it was quiet he allowed himself to weep. He pulled his knees to his chest as sobs racked his body.

_That was why._

The raven crowed again, twice this time, but again received no answer. Pippin suddenly felt very alone.

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_I'm sorry. This needed to happen, nobody knows. Please don't kill me for the spoilers. I mean, the book was written in the 30s or something. just saying._

_So now I'm going to try my hand at writing happy AU's but maybe I'll just go cry instead. I might add onto this some more, like when Pippin find Merry after the whole Minas Tirith battle. Anyway, try to have a good rest of your day! :33_


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